At my parents house, knitting away on what is to become a scarf for my uncle for Christmas, if I manage to finish it, and the scarf for my aunt. Burgundy is his favourite colour and I managed to find a yarn in the perfect tone, not too purple and not too pink. The scarf for my aunt will be in a light moss colour. I hope they turn out nice, I haven’t knitted in two years, the pressure is on.
I’ve had a few ups and downs mentally now, but I’m trying hard to sort myself out. Knitting has actually helped to calm me down. I understand now that people say it’s meditative.
Saturday is here, October 10th. My blogging game hasn’t been strong for a long time. I’m curled up inside myself, walking around in a zombie state. Inspiration is lacking, and I haven’t had the drive to look for it either. I’ve only been existing for a while. I realized that I needed a break and have therefore taken a little vacation at my parents house. I think I need a few late mornings and to catch up on some sleep. Decided to stay over Thursday night and will go back home tomorrow after my moms birthday party.
Yesterday we went to a second hand shop with some stuff and books that my mom doesn’t need anymore and after we stopped by a flower shop. My mom bought me a plant for helping out and I also bought one for myself. Figured I needed something in my bathroom actually, it’s so dull and impersonal there, it needs a little bit of life.
My plans today are to pick up my Switch again and play some Animal Crossing, that too has been neglected, but I have to start again before Autumn is over – I need the mushrooms and Autumn recipes, I need the piles of orange leaves, I need to see the fog!
I’ve had a good couple of days, but it has taken it’s toll. On Monday I invited my mom over for coffee in the late morning. I drank tea, the same old Original Chai from Pukka. It was very cozy and Leesi had such a good time parading around the living room, strode around so proudly showing off her home, even though mom has been here before. It was such a precious sight.
I had a rather difficult night though, and it ended up in self-destructive behaviour. I felt like the nice start to the day was way beyond what I deserve, and I had to make up for it somehow. That’s how it goes, I guess. I do feel grateful for the time my mom and I spent together, but I don’t feel worthy. And that it is where it goes wrong. When will it okay for me to feel good about good times?
Tuesday was good, Leesi and I had a nice morning watching Six Feet Under before we went to grandma’s (Leesi’s grandma that is, my mom) to see the new furniture they had gotten for their living room. Mom was not happy with the color of her couch, and I must say so myself it was a lot duller than the one I had seen a testers patch of. But I gave her some therapy and I think she’s slightly okay with it now.
My sister came to visit today and it was good to see her again. She’s starting a new job soon and it’s all really exiting. We had a good talk, my mom, her and I.
Now I feel like I’m spiralling again, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where I should begin to even take this problem into control. Somewhere – I guess that’s where I should begin. And that Somewhere is Here. I have to start here. From this moment.
I’ve spent the weekend in pure joy. I’ve been granted permanent disability aid! That may seem might a let down to most folks, but for me it is a joy. I’ve been fighting this system for so long, and now I’m finally able to breathe. I have a steady income and I have the time to grow.
I have the time to grow, on my own terms. I don’t have 3 years, or 14 months, or 5 months. I can finally be free. Free to build the live I want to live, with my conditions. I have the time to learn, to experience, to grow.
It has been hard living in this process, of knowing/not knowing. I know I’ve must’ve lost some hair over it. But it is here. And I am safe. It is weird and it is good. I am safe. It doesn’t exactly slow down the process that Autumn is here with me. I feel good, I feel enlightened, I feel inspired. I hope that will come to show on my instagram and of course – here.
I ‘ve started writing again and I hope this will be a good thing for me. My sentences, my words, my meanings. I have so much to say, but I’ve never really known the words to say them. I feel like this is a turning point, and I am here. I am here to let you know how I feel, to know what I experience, to know what life is life how I live it with the diagnosis that I have. I am ready.
I’m sitting here in the lazy chair in my parents house, I’m cat sitting this weekend. It’s a grey morning outside, wind is blowing through the apple trees and shaking some apples to the wet grass from the rain earlier. The heating pump is on and Leesi is sleeping at my feet, curled up in a blanket. As I am sitting here, my thoughts wander to the things I’m grateful for in my life, and I thought I’d share five of them with you today.
❥ My animals. The way they show me unconditional love every day and I do the same with them. Even on my worst days, they bring out the best in me. They fill up my entire heart and I don’t even know how to put into words what they mean to me. Love, love, love.
❥ My parents living close by. I have felt some embarrassment from getting an apartment so close to my parents house, (even though it was the best apartment out for rent when I was looking), but I am happy that’s where I landed. I am independent, but their support is just a few streets away.
❥ Writing again and picking up my camera. I am slowly getting back into expressing myself on paper and capturing little moments, and that I am very much grateful for. Lowering my expectations and trying to just enjoy it.
❥ The best season of the year is just three days away. In a short time the leaves will turn orange and red and yellow. The sun will become golden and create that crisp, but sweet scent in the air. Rain will pour down and there will be full days spent under blankets with reading, tv-series, tea, hot cocoa and cuddles, in the soft light of lit candles. Layers of knitted and fluffy sweaters and cardigans and dressy trousers and Dr. Martens and checkered and dark coloured floral dresses and pantyhose!
❥ The Internet. I’ve met some good people online over the past years, and even though there’s a part of me that don’t dare to call them my friends, (how can anyone want to be my friend?), there’s another part who cherish them so much and they show me love, and I suppose that’s what friendship is. I guess I just have to come to terms with the fact that I am wanted and I am someone people care about.
The temperature is harsh this morning, it’s not hard to tell that Autumn is right around the corner. I’ve put on woolen socks that my mom has knitted for me, the heater is on, and I’ve made myself a cup of apple and cinnamon tea. It’s a slow morning, and I’m visiting my mother today. I have no real plans other than that at the moment. Or probably several more cups of tea. And a walk with Khaleesi.
I’m on day nine of no self destructive behaviour, and I think I might be feeling good actually. It’s going way smoother than I had expected? I thought I was going to fight hard for this, but the urges are bordering on insignificant and are in a way easy to overcome. I have had some help from my anxiety medication, but I wasn’t using too much of them before, so this increase is okay in my eyes. I hope this next week will be equally as good as the last one in these terms. Fingers crossed.
I am once again back here behind the screen typing away. The sun is going down, I’ve lit a scented candle – Pine Spice – and Khaleesi is softly slumbering in her cuddle nest next to me. My mind has been pre-occupied with some not-so-good things lately. I feel freer now, and I want to come back, but I’m struggling. Struggling with the idea that I’m worthy to take up space, that I can be someone, be seen. Which is why this blog never really was anything, I suppose.
I seldom feel like I am good enough, (other than on my ups when I feel like I am beyond best, but that doesn’t last long), and I realize everything that I’m missing out on personally. I am scared to the bone of being perceived as thinking I am Someone, a Person. I don’t write, I don’t journal, I don’t do much photography anymore. Half of the time I won’t even allow myself to think. And the reason can be boiled down into six words: Who do I think I am? Who do I think I am sitting here breathing?
I can’t seem to shake off the need to try to be something specific, trying to please the expectations I project on others in my mind. Messy me isn’t enough, I don’t feel like a complete person. But at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever let myself truly try to be something for myself. Almost all I am is set in these expectations of what I believe others want to see and hear.
I need to start being Unapologetically Me. Start from scratch. I know I keep repeating myself, but life is a journey, ones person is a journey. I probably say it more to comfort myself most of all, but I think we all need to hear this from time to time. We don’t need to have it all figured out at all times. I need to accept life, and first and foremost myself. No more apologies, no more trying to justify my existence. I am enough just as I am, imperfectly perfect.
The contract is filled in and signed and today it’s exactly one week until I get the keys to the apartment! Am I allowed to be a little over-the-top excited? It’s been three years since the last time I lived on my own and I’m eager (to say the least) to be independent again.
I have sort of made myself a new routine, getting ready to “start over” and get more out of my days, so I thought I’d share it with you.
. . .
Bedtime is around 10:30 and I have my alarm set for 9:15 the next morning. I might not get up before 10, but at least I’m awake. (Baby steps).
I don’t touch my sweats on weekdays, I usually put on a dress or a soft jumpsuit, and I do my brows in the morning, as to feel a bit made for the day. I used to be in my sweats all day, six days a week, and actually getting dressed has made a difference. This may sound weird, but I’m very emotionally attached to my clothes and I can’t stand the thought of slowly wearing them out by only sitting under a blanket all day. I feel like they deserve to be used for something good.
Next on my list in the morning is getting downstairs to grab a Monster and upstairs again to my desk, put on some Bon Iver or Keaton Henson, journal for a bit and write my to-do list for the day. (This would paint a much more aesthetic picture if I said I made myself a cup of tea, but I pinky swear that happens sometimes as well). This is also a good time to day dream while listening to the birds singing in the apple trees outside.
I often try to write something afterwards, to continue my journaling-thoughts in a more structured manner. If I can’t do that I’ll watch some videos on YouTube, either on personal growth or photography, to get inspired for the day. I don’t meet many people and I don’t go to work, so it’s good to get some input from other people in ways that I can. And I water my plants.
After this I’ll most likely pick up my camera or start a brain-dump with ideas and try to build on them. I do wish I was more determined to put these ideas to life, though, but I’m too insecure in myself still, so most of them just stay ideas and inspirations. My photos are rarely significant, but I try to take at least a couple of photos a day, even if they’re less than insignificant, just to keep it up.
If it’s sunny the dogs are let out for a while. Koda can’t go on walks at the moment, because he has a fracture in his toe, so the garden is a good substitute. They get to smell and run (restricted on a soft ground) for a bit and they sometimes get their dog bones to gnaw on. Khaleesi is pretty much satisfied with just sun bathing.
When the afternoon comes there’s dinner and I like to participate in the cooking. I am somewhere in between anxious and excited as to what that will look like when living on my own again and cooking for myself.
I’ll try to write some more, or edit the photos I’ve taken throughout the day, if I’ve taken several. I’ll probably put on a couple of episodes of Homeland, (I’m currently on season 2), and half-watch it while I edit my photos.
To end the day I like to put on a timer to read for 30 minutes. This way it’s easier for me to read. I always think that if I don’t read for at least an hour and half, there’s no use and I’m not a good enough reader, which feels overwhelming, but setting a timer for that amount kind of says “this is how it is, this is achievable, this is enough” and I usually end up reading for a bit longer. I also try to have reading be the last thing I do at the end of the day, so I don’t end it with screen time, and my head will have some time to cool off. I’ll also write a few words in my journal to reflect over the day.
. . .
This is more or less my routine as a stay-at-home dog parent. Or this has been my active routine the past week, and I will do everything in my power to keep it up. What I have not put in here is the time I spend on mood swings, on overthinking, on anxiety and overwhelmed, zoning out, staring at the wall – but it’s in here. Some days I’m not able to do much except these last things I mentioned. But that is okay, too.
Here the other day I was wandering in the garden with my camera for a bit. I haven’t held it in my hands for a while now, so it was good picking it up again and what perfect timing! The apple trees were starting to blossom, (they are in full bloom as we speak, the bees and bumblebees have fully invaded it), dandelions all over the uncut lawn, sunflower sprouts in the flower beds, blooming strawberry plants – life is everywhere.
I’ve been a zombie for so long, but even I seem to be awakening too. For many years I’ve been dormant. Life has been hard for many years now; depression, trauma, BPD, AvPD, I had to distance myself to get by, and I shut myself off, became full on apathetic. I realised a few weeks ago I had completely forgotten what flowers smell like and I had to run up to my room and cry for a bit.
Almost every good experience I’ve had in between the bad is gone too, like my memory never stored it anywhere, I didn’t have the space in my brain and I wasn’t open for the information. A friend of mine keeps bringing up memories we’ve shared since we met in folk high school in late 2015, and it’s very nice, I love when she does it, but it’s also really hard, because I don’t remember them myself, and I’ve had to realize what I’ve lost to my illnesses over the years. There’s been a lot of tears.
I’ve struggled with flashbacks, but they’ve become more frequent and a lot of things that have been buried in my apathy has also resurfaced. The bad has come back, but the good still stays hidden somewhere. I was talking about awakening and I feel like I’ve become more conscious lately and hope as I continue to wake up more, the good memories (because I know they exist!) will come back too, if they’re actually stored in here someplace.
But waking up… I don’t know if it’s Spring who has done it, or if something in me has suddenly just shifted, but I don’t want to be dormant anymore, I want to live and experience things – smell, touch, hear, see, taste – even if that also include the not-so-good parts. I believe this is an all or nothing situation and if I’m going to be alive anyway, I don’t wish to lose anymore of my life, I want to be present.
Only by being present and in the moment will I be able to share and create, hopefully help, and grow!
And even though I have my struggles and there’s probably no hope in every single part of them ever truly going away, life itself still is hopeful. It can be good, I can learn how to better handle and live with my struggles, and I can have an overall good quality of life, even while living this life. You can have a good life despite your struggles, too! You “just” (and I put “just” in quotation because I know it’s not always easy to “just” do things, I do) have to take the moments you have to spare, in between the pain, and fill them with The Good. Smell those flowers, cuddle your pet, allow yourself to laugh with your friends, breathe deeply, go out to dinner, write something, paint something, walk barefoot in the grass, take photos of our pretty Nature, listen to good music! I’m not saying life will be perfect if you “just” do those things, but it will be better.
(Okay this got real peppy real fast, I might have had one too many Monsters. I’ll stop now).
I’m trying to create some kind of routine for myself. It’s not easy when you don’t go to work, or have some sort of daily commitment, but I’m trying. I’m trying to get something out of my life, create more of those moments to fill with The Good, create meaning.
I know life is tough, I know how easy it is to want to give up, but please don’t. Life is worth it ♥
The one and only spoiler to this review: I have never written a review before in my lifeand this probably doesn’t even go under the term “review”, but well, here we are. (May be a spoiler about Theo’s personality).
. . .
I bought The Goldfinch some time in 2014, if I remember correctly. At the time I read a fair amount of books, but I somehow never picked this one up after I brought it home with me. Maybe because it looked too daunting with its 864 pages, I don’t know, but anyway, it stayed on the shelf. Now I can finally say I’ve finished it, and what a whirlwind of a read this has been.
I was hooked from the first page. I could sense that Theo was troubled, and I wanted to know what he’d been through, how he got there, to that hotel room, both mentally and physically.
I have not read her previous books, but I quickly fell in love with Donna Tartt’s way of writing. Her carefully chosen words and elaborate depictions, phrases that encapsulated me, but were somewhat simple at the same time. There’s nothing to say on the prose in this book – it’s simply mesmerising. And despite using, what must be, her whole vocabulary and more, I found the book easy to read. Her choice of words is mindful and they flow easily.
Tartt’s use of words and eye for detail, (in places where it’s not needed too), almost becomes her bane in this book, though. There’s a lot of repetition and when I was around half-way through, I could feel the story dragging, it never really got anywhere. But I felt for Theo, his self-destructiveness, and how he longed for love and care, despite having sort of given up already, so I felt obligated to read on, and in the end I’m glad I did.
I had to put it away a few times, which is why I spent such a long time reading it. Both because it got old a few times, but also because I was angry at Theo for not really growing up. I wanted him to be better: alert and mindful, caring and attentive, responsible and to find a sense of purpose. Maybe on behalf of myself?
As I said, I’m glad I continued to read on. Though a bit predictable at times, it’s a good story which has it’s moments and, for me, eye-openers. I’ve gotten the memo that there’s a conflict to what people think about the ending, but it was an ideal ending for me. When being pre-occupied in my mind while depressed, I need others to think for me sometimes, and the ending was just what I needed.
Have you read The Goldfinch? What are your thoughts?